5.35 p.m.
Sophia waited for Ethan in his sitting room. She pulled
1984
from the shelf and leafed through it.
Ethan approached her from behind and put his arms around her and inhaled her scent. “You smell so good, my darling. What are you reading?” He perused the book over her shoulder, “George Orwell?”
“I read this book when I was very young. It made a huge impression in me. Do you remember the book well?” She turned in his arms to watch his face.
“Yes. Why?”
“Room 101. Have you ever imagined being in a room with your worst fear?”
He looked at her askance, “No. Never. Why, Sophia, I don’t even know what my worst fear is. Not rats, for sure,” he chortled.
“Mine is moths and butterflies.”
“You’re kidding,” he laughed this time. “I don’t believe it.”
“I’m serious. I loathe butterflies and moths. That’s why I said earlier today that I didn’t wear jewelry depicting these insects. That room was the most effective and horrible torture I could ever imagine undergoing,” she shuddered.
Ethan hugged her, “Don’t worry, darling, no one is going to torture you.”
London, The City, Victoria Embankment.
The City of London Bank Headquarters.
Wednesday, January 20
th
, 2010.
10.10 a.m.
Alistair Connor MacCraig entered the meeting room from the connecting door of his office. The room was empty. He looked at his vintage Patek Philip Perpetual Calendar Moonphase.
Wales is already ten minutes late
. Alistair didn’t do late. He opened the door to the reception room, looked around and noticed the back of two heads, one dark, one fair, inclined close together, engaged in an intimate conversation. He motioned for his personal assistant to come in. “MacKeenan, could you please let Mr. Wales know that he is late while I start the meeting?”
Sophia looked at her watch and whispered to Edward, “I hate waiting.”
“Heavens, Sophia. It’s only been ten minutes.” He smiled at her. “How did you cope with Gabriela’s pregnancy?”
Her hazel eyes sparkled and the corners of her lips twisted. “Perfectly fine. I was already working then and if I was bored I just invented a new idea for her room or bought something new for her.”
“Poor, poor Gabriel,” he chuckled.
“Poor Gabriel?” She giggled, remembering how protective and overwhelming her husband had been. “Poor, poor me! He panicked when I told him I was pregnant. In the last month, he almost locked me inside the apartment.” She repressed a laugh and whispered to him. “When I told him it was time to go the hospital, I thought he was going to faint.”
The secretary approached them. “Mr. MacCraig is ready to receive you. This way, please.”
“Sophia, let me do the talking,” Edward whispered in her ear before entering the meeting room.
She paused at the tall, wide door, raised one eyebrow, looked at him, and made a face.
Men!
“Trust me, Edward, I won’t put my foot in my mouth.” She put a hand on his arm, squeezed and stepped into the room.
Alistair scowled at his watch again and turned to look out at the London skyline. A well-known boredom took over his soul.
Another unvaried, insipid day. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Every day is the same. Will light ever come back to my wearisome life?
He heard the room door open again.
Another dull meeting discussing this contract. Today, I’ll get this account. At least, something to brighten my day
. He pasted a smile on his face, turned on his heels and steeped forward to greet the CEO of Leibowitz Oil. But he stopped dead in his tracks.
Suddenly, Alistair’s private sun shed a bright ray of light from behind the dark, heavy clouds that had enclosed his life for more than five years.
Fuck! Davidoff is accompanied by a woman. A magnificent beauty
. His world spun on its axis, leaving him lightheaded. He watched, paralyzed, as she paused at the door, made a teasing face at Davidoff, rested an elegant hand on his arm, spoke something, and gave him a reassuring smile.
Are they lovers?
The thought annoyed him. Why, he didn’t know. The woman advanced a few steps and looked around the room, halting with parted lips when her gaze locked with his. He felt unsettled.
She has the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. Black as night and endless as the universe. Her flawless and honey-dipped skin. Her light hazel eyes, fringed by long raven lashes. Her thin and straight nose and her mouth… Christ! Her mouth is full and moist. Red. No lipstick, no gloss, just a natural, lush, fucking mouth
.
His gaze surveyed her as she looked at Edward.
Her long and slender neck. And she’s biting her full bottom lip and I… I’m getting an erection from this simple action. Ah. Fuck. The way she just licked her lips
. His cock applauded and he gave himself a brisk mental shake.
For Christ’s sake, Alistair Connor. You’re not a horny teenager anymore
.
His eyes remained glued to her as she moved in his direction, taking in the movements of her long elegant hands flattening her dress onto her body. Desire shot hotter through him.
Lean, voluptuous body. Her legs… Is she a model?
He cocked his head to the side.
No, not tall enough. What is she doing here?
Alistair shook himself inward.
Stop this. Stop! It’s just another woman. And much too young. Most likely a trainee or Davidoff’s assistant. In all probability, she’s sharing his bed
.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She has an angelic aura around her, but…
He knew women. They fell at his feet everyday offering their bodies for money and status.
This one won’t be any different. Christ, I really am a cynic. Come now, Alistair Connor, this is work
. He smiled and extended his hand.
Sophia looked around the room and froze dumbstruck. Her heart gave a slam and stopped in her chest. She forgot how to breathe.
A man stared at her. Fixedly, intensely, consuming her. She couldn’t exactly make out his features because of the light coming through the windows.
He remained motionless. He was so muscular and so tall, so large that his frame shadowed the light that came into the room from the enormous glass windows. His height intimidated even more because of his massive shoulders and broad chest, which were not at all hidden by the extremely well-tailored dark charcoal suit, white shirt, and blue-and-green striped tie. His stare never wavered from hers, piercing her soul.
He must workout daily. Sophia, focus!
She squinted to have a better look of his face. The exceedingly handsome features and forest-green eyes struck her core.
These are the most wonderful eyes I’ve seen in my whole life
. They were intense, so intense that they seemed to burst into green flames, enhanced by ink-dark, long and full lashes. His slightly tanned skin.
Perfect. God was inspired when He made him. He seemed designed by an Italian master painter
.
The man had jet-black hair, worn in an unfashionable way, longer than usual, with uneven, long shredded bangs on the left side of his face and jagged ends, falling in straight and thick strands to his shoulders, almost past them.
Windblown!
Sophia had never seen a sexier haircut.
If it was cut at all
.
It seemed he had scissored cut them himself. And in a hurry. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, chiseled large jaw. His upper lip was thin, but extremely well shaped and his bottom lip was…
Delicious. Pink lips. Dark. Pink. Lips
. Unconsciously, Sophia wetted her own lips with a sensuous glide of her tongue and felt desire building in her body.
I want to lick these lips
.
He absentmindedly brushed aside a lock of midnight-black hair when it fell over his eyes, smoothing out his stern and stiff stance. She wished she could repeat the gesture herself. To delve her hands into that hair and grip it to bring his head to her and kiss those dark-pink lips.
How could pink be so male?
Sophia shook her head, as if to free herself from the spell that he had cast on her. But he had ensnared her in his trap. She turned to glance at Edward, who stood behind her, as if asking his permission. She bit her lip.
Permission? Permission to do what?
She didn’t know. It seemed Edward knew, because he gave a small imperceptible nod.
She walked in the man’s direction. Step–by-step, as her high heels sank into the plush carpet, her body seemed to move in slow motion. Sophia became conscious of her light pink YSL dress with a large turquoise alligator belt.
Her hand ran down her stomach and thighs to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles of her dress. His eyes followed her movement, appraising her. She almost choked with the force of his lustful gaze.
Sophia halted less than two feet from him.
Oh, my. He looks like a god, a perfect Roman statue in flesh, oozing raw sensuality…
She craned her neck to look at his six foot six stature and his eyes.
God! These eyes… They see through me. His mouth… It’s totally succulent… And it’s moving. Damn
.
He spoke to her and she hadn’t understood a word.
She looked down and saw he had stretched out his hand to her. In a haze, she put her suddenly cold hand in his warm one and he closed his around hers. A shock flared her blood into lava.
“I-I’m sorry?” she stammered.
“Alistair Connor MacCraig, CEO of The City of London Bank. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he repeated and raised a devilish black eyebrow at her speechless state.
Aye, it’s always the same. Another one falling for handsome features and body. Pity. But, fuck it. Wasn’t I bored? Why not have some fun? Showtime, Alistair Connor
.
“Good morning, MacCraig. This is our-” Edward said from directly behind her.
“Sophia Santo.” Sophia recovered from her state of bewilderment and shook his hand.
A firm, pleasant handshake. Good
. He eyed her again from head to toe.
“I’m head of the legal department at Leibowitz Oil, Mr. MacCraig. How do you do?”
“Head of the legal department?” Alistair’s smile waned. “Any problem with the contract, Davidoff?” He greeted Davidoff and motioned to the table. “Please, let’s sit. Mr. Wales will arrive any moment now. Could I offer any refreshments? Water, tea, coffee?” He pressed a button on the wireless telephone that sat on a side table.
“Coffee and water would be fine, thanks.” Sophia seated herself at the head of the table and received a startled gaze from Alistair that she countered with raised brows and an inquisitive look.
“Davidoff? Anything?”
“The same, please.”
While he asked for the refreshments, he noticed Sophia glancing at her watch and thinning her lips. He glanced at his.
Damn. Wales is really late
.
“Mr. MacCraig, Mr. Davidoff assured me that you were fully aware of the contract terms and that we could discuss them with you. Shall we start?”
He looked at Davidoff, who glared at her. “If it pleases you. So, Ms. Santo-”
“
Mrs
. Santo,” she corrected him. “My points,” and she emphasized the plural, “are…” she raised her left hand to stress the points.
He noticed that her bare ring finger.
Interesting! Mrs. Santo doesn’t wear a marriage band
.
“-fees are too high; secondly, the guaranties asked are exaggerated; and lastly, the penalty clauses are absurd.” She took out four copies of the draft from her briefcase, handing one to him, the other to Edward, and kept two.
Hmm. Organized
. His copy was all marked and noted. Her handwriting appeared neat, clean, and firm, with a touch of swirls showing her feminine side.
The right amount of flourish and power. Feminine and bold. I like that. Mrs. Santo isn’t prudish
.
She leafed through her copy. “If you please look at clause number eleven you will see that you’re demanding a hundred and fifty percent as guaranty for the loan. We are a solid firm, Mr. MacCraig, there’s no reason for this.”
He flicked his eyes at an impassive Davidoff.
Seems that she’s more than a gorgeous face on a wondrous body. Mrs. Santo has brains and wields power
. “I should say, Mrs. Santo that we demand this percentage because of the large loan amount, it is a long-term loan and we’re charging you quite a low rate of interest.”
“Maybe you think so. We don’t.” Sophia didn’t even look at Edward. She could see from the corner of her eye his unhappiness with her. “With such a high guaranty we surely could find a cheaper way of raising funds. You’re making exaggerated claims. We aren’t devoid of other possibilities or in such a hurry. I perfectly understand that your bank is a private institution and what your main goal is.” She leaned his direction.
Christ!
He noticed the swell of her breasts pushing the neckline. He wished for an even lower neckline.
“But ours is the same and-”
MacKeenan entered the room with the refreshments and speedily served them. “Mr. Wales arrives momentarily, Mr. MacCraig,” he informed.
“Thank you, MacKeenan,” Alistair nodded. “So, you were saying…”
Edward used the gap to jump into the conversation. “What Mrs. Santo is trying to convey is that the conditions are too harsh and that we could arrange for milder fees-”
The door opened and Charles Wales came in. The men rose to greet him, but Sophia stayed seated, making a show of looking at her watch.
Aye, Wales is definitely late. It appears she detests unpunctuality as much as I do. Another point for you, Mrs. Santo
.
“Miss San-”
“
Mrs
. Santo,” Sophia muttered dryly, interrupting him. “Seems that your memory fails you, Mr. Wales,” and she rose an eyebrow, “as always.”
Wales continued as if nothing had happened and his gaze leered over her figure. “A pleasure to see you again.” He extended his hand and Sophia handed him a copy of the contract, avoiding his hand, being nearly uncivil.
Alistair observed the weird exchange with keen eyes.
Something’s wrong here
.
Sophia impatiently drilled her nails on the glass tabletop.